


Family Ties

by nichasheng



Series: Sand Ache [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-06
Updated: 2015-11-06
Packaged: 2018-04-30 06:50:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5154287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nichasheng/pseuds/nichasheng
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the way back to Coruscant, Obi-wan Kenobi met a strange man. (I had rewritten the whole story in English.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Family Ties

**Author's Note:**

> This is a very important part of my other long A/O fiction Sand Ache. You can check my dashboard to read it. 
> 
> I had also painted a comic page for it. This page had been finished for some time and I’d changed almost the whole dialogue between Qui-gon and Obi-wan, which caused the story board to not fit the fiction very well, but I think it could still present the scene.
> 
> By the way, I’m not a native English speaker, or anyone used Indo-European language, so if the grammar makes you feel uncomfortable, then I can only ask you to accept my apologies.

_ _

  


_You always worry too much and make something harder for yourself, instead. _ The advice that Qui-gon had more than once told him, against an expression remained between banter and remonstration now was dancing in Obi-wan’s head.

 

When he woke up with a start and then accessed the Force for warning or any disturbance, his master just lay still in the other bed, back to him, breathing quietly. He wondered briefly if Qui-gon pretended to be asleep, to test him while something occurred but not in a real emergency. This ridiculous idea flashed through his mind, faster than he could laugh at it.

 

The Force was as harmonious as every piece of this space craft—smoothly carried sleeping passengers across the stars toward where the most prosperous city of the galaxy settled its artificial roots deep into a planet no living being could remember its natural landscape. He could feel a tinge of regret, which he often felt during any long journey especially in a craft packed with travelers and the people who left their home world.

 

_You always worry too much._

Anyway, the comfortable couch seemed to lose all its attraction. He tried to do some meditation, but a strange feeling clung at his back like a heavy cloak that made him uneasy in the narrow cabin. He thought maybe some hot drink could help this kind of mood.

 

As Obi-wan expected, there was no one else in the common room at this time except one human male. The man sat beside the wide viewport, which covered one side of the room. He looked out of it with a vacant face, an empty glass on the table in front of him.

 

Obi-wan took a table not far from the man—almost everyone liked to sit beside the viewport and he was no exception.

 

It seemed that the craft had left the hyperspace not long ago. Beyond the viewport into the far distance, the Corellian system slowly span itself amid the darkness, radiating pale blue light, the light, like every flourishing system belong to the core worlds, that added the glorious of eternity to the Republic for many generations.

 

He ordered a cup of kopi tea. When the droid was serving, he extracted a little data-pad from his tunic, clicked into an application used for Twi'leki learning. His self-study lasted only until the first sip of tea flowed through his throat.

 

“Are you a Jedi?”

 

Obi-wan looked up. No doubt the question came from the other man in the room whose eyes now no longer locked with viewport.

 

“You’re a Jedi, aren’t you?” The man asked again. Even across two tables his voice could be heard clear in the quiet room.

 

Obi-wan smiled. The question set before him was somewhat brusque yet without hostility.

 

“How did you know that?” Instead give a straight answer, he asked mildly

 

The man moved one finger in a circle around his right ear.

 

“Your braid.”

 

“As far as I know, sir, there are more than a few beings have this hairstyle, especially youth of humanoids.”

 

The truth was that some beings of the galaxy did indeed show their respect to the Jedi, even installed the Jedi-intoxication in their whole childhood and adolescent fantasies, like this hairstyle--a kind of fashion, though Obi-wan was reluctant to admit.

 

The man stirred slightly behind the table, looked embarrassed.

 

“I’m a Jedi, you’re right.” Obi-wan gestured clam with one hand. “I’m a Padawan learner, not a full Jedi yet.” He added.

 

The man smiled. “Padawan learner, I know that. One Jedi Master can only have one apprentice. They are Padawans, all have a braid like yours if they can grow hair. The hairless one will make it out of other materials. When they past the trail and become a Jedi, it was cut off with a lightsaber.”

 

Obi-wan’s answer seemed to inspire him.

 

“You know many details about the Jedi.” Obi-wan said, a little surprising. The man before him was in his early forties, with premature white hair on temples. Face remained unshaven, sleeves rolled up, muscles on the forearm probably were shaped by hard labor—not the usual type of scholar or Jedi fans.

 

“My wife told me that.” The man said quietly. “She had been interested in the Jedi, collected everything about them.”

 

Suddenly, a drop of sadness caused a ripple in the Force that made Obi-wan realize the unfortunate truth beneath the words.

 

“I’m sorry.” He said involuntarily.

 

“Why apologize?” The man puzzled.

 

“Your wife, something happened to her, right?”

 

The men snorted. “You Jedi, thinking you know everything. But yes, she suffered bad cough that kriffing infection delivered to her, one day it pumped all the air out of her lung. Yes, she died. That’s why we left Ator, though my son…” he paused. “He will understand.”

 

“I’m sorry for your loss.” Obi-wan expressed sympathy with this. Something seemed to squeeze an ice into his heart. The infection of Ator was what the mission he and Qui-gon had been assigned. “If you are afraid of infection, I can tell you that vaccines will soon be used. They are preparing for mass production.”

 

“Maybe I wasn’t clear enough. We left Ator not out of fear. We left Ator because I lost my wife and my son lost his mother, because the kriffing bureaucracy and the medical company bargained with each other again and again.” Sadness replaced by sudden anger, came welling up and spilled. The men growled in a low voice. “I will never ever pay my taxes to such foolish government!”

 

Obi-wan stared somberly into his cup. The dark liquid appeared still, like the stalemate in Ator he and Qui-gon so difficultly negotiated. Although the deadlock could be solved at last, the man’s wife failed to see that.

 

“I’m sorry.” He could not pick up other words.

 

“It’s not your fault, Jedi youth. I didn’t mean that.” The man said promptly, obviously was embarrassed that he loosened a grip on himself. “I hate my hesitation to leave, that’s my only regret.”

 

Obi-wan was about to say something encouraging when a voice sounded behind him.

 

“Obi-wan.”

 

He turned his head. That was Qui-gon who walked into the common room.

 

“Master.” He got up and greeted.

 

“You are not in the cabin. I guess you are here.”

 

“I don’t want to disturb you.”

 

“Within a few hours we should arrive at Coruscant. Since we are both awake, check some details of the report before the disembarkation would be a good idea.” Qui-gon suggested.

 

“I agree.” Obi-wan pushed his chair back beneath the table and nodded to the man. “Glad to talk with…”

 

“May I have your full name, young Jedi?” The man, whose face was etched with bitterness a moment ago, interrupted and stood up suddenly, did now brighten somewhat at his own question.

 

Obi-wan paused a moment, confused by the enthusiasm, but soon smiled back.

 

“My name is Obi-wan Kenobi.” He said politely.

 

Mouth gaped, slightly shaking. The man stared at Obi-wan in disbelief.

 

“Are you all right, sir?” For a second, Obi-wan wondered if that was an after-effect of hangover, considering it could be an attempt to drink away family’s death.

                               

Something seemed to flip behind the man’s eyes. He composed himself and put an awkward smile on the face.

 

“I’m Cliegg, Cliegg Lars. Nice to meet you.” He said, hands wringing.

 

******

 

Coruscant, as the capital of the Republic, its spaceport bustled with round-the-clock activities as crafts and vessels cycled their departure and arrival. A lot of beings queued up before the main entry like several slow-wriggling snakes, nothing could help Obi-wan move quickly even in an efficient customs clearance system—unless he revealed the Jedi identity to staff.

 

He knew he won’t.

 

 _We are Jedi_ would never be used as a privilege in his life only if necessary, and his master always told him that when you were surrounded by the living beings, harmonized yourself into them, feeling and thinking.

 

He was thinking, not of the mystery of the Force, but of the man he met in the common room. He could not understand the man’s swirling emotion in the end of their chat, face glowed with fear and joy the mix of both, and he could not shake away the strange feeling that haunted him.

 

“Something on your mind, Padawan.”

 

Qui-gon’s voice broke into his thoughts, muffled by surrounding but clear.

 

“I’m ok, master.” He said casually, didn’t want to trouble Qui-gon after a hard mission.

 

Qui-gon looked at him thoughtfully. “There are lots of people have an illusion about the Jedi, you know, paying too much worship to us or thinking us as a flock of arrogant wizard. I think the man we met belong to the former.”

 

Obi-wan sighed. With a master’s eye, Qui-gon saw the worry rise from him.

 

“I don’t think so.” He shook his head briefly. “We talked for a while before you came. He recognized I’m a Jedi, told me something about his family, nothing special. Until…”

 

“Until I entered and called your name.” Qui-gon finished.

 

“Yes.”

“You don’t know him, do you?”

 

“No. I’ve been rolling his face over. No idea.”

 

“Did you have a bad feeling about him?” Qui-gon asked softly.

 

Obi-wan measured this question. It didn’t sound like the teasing one sometimes Qui-gon joked with him. “Of course not, but I have a strange feeling about him even now.”

 

Qui-gon touched his fine beard, pondering. The Calamarians stood before them was chatting happily as the queue moved toward. He seemed to be listening to it.

 

“The Force is naughty, occasionally, like a sprite who up to pranks.” He said wittily. “You have to wait till the revelation present itself. Maybe we will see soon enough.”

 

“Hope so.” Obi-wan shrugged.

 

When they got near the entry，as if to prove Qui-gon’s opinion, a young boy tucked himself beside Obi-wan.

 

“Mr. Kenobi?” The boy asked. He was about eleven or twelve, with untidy brown hair and a sleepy face.

 

“Yes?” Obi-wan masked his surprise. Someone apparently made his name a little bit popular today.

 

“My father told me to give this to you.” The boy slipped a note into Obi-wan’s hand and then rushed away.

 

“Wait!” He wanted to stop the boy, but the thin figure blended in with the crowd immediately. He looked confusedly at Qui-gon for a direction. His master remained silent, lip curled at the corner, amused despite himself.

 

Obi-wan had seen this face before.

 

_A drama about two human Jedi fall in love with a Twi'lek woman that is playing on the temporary stage, their lines are too indecent to young Obi-wan to accept. It shocks him. _

_Qui-gon smiles humorously. “One Jedi should not blame the common herd for their harmless entertainment.” He says._

Now he couldn’t remember his own lines. The note in his hand was a folded piece of paper. He unraveled it.

_Tomorrow afternoon, 5 o’clock, Monument Plaza_

_—your father,Cliegg Lars._

If there was a mirror in front of him, he might see the same expression Mr. Lars had shown after learned his name was reflected in it.

 

******

 

“You want to talk about this, right?”

 

Though he wore the blindfold, he knew this voice was from Qui-gon, and clearly knew what his master meant.

 

“Talk about what?” He returned, keeping the balance both in his body and tone.

 

“Talk about why you fell down from those beams three times.”

 

Obi-wan jumped. Then, as if on cue, he dropped again. He was annoyed with himself, so he let the gravity take control. The mat held him instantly, buried him into its soft. He lay still against his stomach, the leaking sense of frustration spreading through his muscles.

 

The muffled sound of footsteps approached. Obi-wan picked himself up and took off the blindfold.

 

Qui-gon stood right before him, arms crossed.“It’s nearly four o’clock.” He prompted.

 

“I know.” Obi-wan smoothed his tunic.

 

“And my young Padawan is turning around like a Reek in trap.”

 

“I’m not, Master!” He exclaimed, could not suppress a rising blush on his cheeks.

 

Qui-gon smiled like he was comforting a little kid. “Take easy, Obi-wan. I’m not mocking you. I want to know what you are going to do about that note.”

 

“I don’t know, Master.” He conceded, made a helpless gesture with his hand. “Get in touch with family is not considered appropriate to a Jedi Knight.”

 

“You are a good Padawan and very understand the Jedi Discipline.” Qui-gon flattered theatrically.

 

Obi-wan stirred uneasily. “Maybe Mr. Lars has mistaken me for his son.”

 

“I think there is only one Obi-wan Kenobi in the Order.”

 

“But we have different last name.”

 

“You want to check the files?”

 

He looked away. Those balance beams above were suddenly something he wanted to walk all day. Qui-gon was right. It was not that he hadn’t considered it, but the risk was too much for a Padawan to take, and probably would get his master into trouble. Qui-gon would take the responsibility of misguidance whether he knew what Obi-wan had done.

 

“You should remember the dream you told me once, during we traveled to Gala.” Qui-gon said quietly, and his tone changed.

 

He looked at his master again. The banter was gone, left an avuncular smile in Qui-gon’s face. “Yes, I had a vision of my family in that brain-wash machine, but my mind was a mess at the time and…” he paused, a memory came to life behind his eyes. “I have a little brother named Owen in it.”

 

“That boy in spaceport. Mr. Lars is his father.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Aren't you curious about your family?”

 

Obi-wan hesitated, but the curiousness was hard in his head, tickling through his cells.

 

He nodded finally.

 

“Then what are you waiting for?” Qui-gon shrugged.

 

Obi-wan blinked, couldn’t believe his ears. “You mean?”

 

Qui-gon tapped him on the shoulder. “Clean up yourself. Don’t let Mr. Lars wait too long.”

 

******

 

Obi-wan had never thought he would tumble into such unpredictable dilemma. He assumed if with any other Master that the matter would be easier to get through—a lecture about the strict tenets of the Jedi Code, or the fidelity that vow to devote a lifetime to service, whatever. He would be instructed stay in temple whole week.

 

Qui-gon had always been an unusual Jedi. He went his own way, regardless of what tradition dictated. That was why Obi-wan was now here before the Monument Plaza.

 

The man’s sadness touched him again, mixed with his own regret—if he really was his father, it also meant his mother was dead—not a heartbroken ache he had experienced for the death of dear friend, one he had hoped was buried deep in the ground but inevitably grew brambles that brought prick in the night. It was just sympathy, echoing through his mind, which made him feel guilt.

 

For as long as he could remember, his family was the Jedi Order. Focused on training, immersed himself in the Force, there was no place for his birth family from the very beginning until yesterday.

 

Obi-wan sighed. He pulled his hood, and started looking for Mr. Lars.

 

With the gathering dust, the cone shaped statues which standing on the plaza radiated soft yellow light slowly, fading the indifference of concretes, consoling the ponderous bare stone in the center that was surrounded by a circle of benches. Cliegg Lars was setting on the one of them, watching passersby with the same face Obi-wan had first saw him in the common room, but it was gone when he caught the hooding form of the young Jedi. He got up, seemed to be very surprised.

 

“Mr. Lars.” Obi-wan bowed his head, but did not take off the hood.

 

Cliegg smiled. Studied Obi-wan’s face a moment, and then gestured eagerly at him to sit to the bench.

 

They sat in silence. Obi-wan looked around, did not see the boy who he met in the spaceport.

 

It took a while for their conversation to reach the start.

 

“You look like your mother.” Cliegg said quietly.

 

It was not an opening he had prepared to face. He stared away over Cliegg’s shoulder, bitterness twining around his tongue.

 

“I thought you wouldn’t come. I know how it works.” Cliegg switched, maybe he sensed something for Obi-wan’s hesitation.

 

Obi-wan cleared his throat. “Master Jinn is an enlightened mentor.”

 

“Then I’m relieved. I don’t wanna get you in trouble. No offense, you Jedi are very stiff in some ways.”

 

“We must be strict with ourselves.”

 

“They taught you well.” There was a slight scorch in Cliegg’s voice. “I’ve thought for a long time whether contact you or not, but there’s a chance I may never see you again.”

 

“Why?”

 

“We’re going to Tatooine.”

 

Obi-wan tried to recall the name. “It’s a planet of the Outer Rim, very remote.”

 

“That’s why we must come to Coruscant first, only here can get a ship to that place.”

 

“When will you leave?”

 

“We’re leaving tonight. So don’t worry, we will not bother you too long.”

 

This assurance made Obi-wan sigh with relief inwardly. There were more than a few parents who regretted entrusting their children to the Jedi and asked for return. Two or three of events had caused great disturbances that brought negative images to the Order. But when he met Cliegg’s eye, he felt shame sting at his stomach.

 

_You are a selfish sithspit, Obi-wan._

 

He parted his lips.“I—”

 

“It’s ok, I know.” Cliegg held up a reassuring hand. “You have lots of questions, Obi-wan,” he paused. “May I call you that?”

 

Obi-wan nodded and swallowed his words.

 

Cliegg started slowly. “You may be thinking, why our last name is different. It’s because Kenobi is Akia, your mother’s maiden name. It’s her decision when she gave you to the Jedi.”

 

“Why did she do this?”

 

“Because I disagreed with the whole thing.”

 

Obi-wan could hear a slight but noticeable emphasis on the word _disagree._

 

“When you were born, we completely hadn’t thought you could be a Force-sensitive. No precedents in my family, none of your mother’s. But it didn’t take long before we found it. Toys flying, cups moving, you were less than half a year old at the time.” Sorrow covered Cliegg’s face. “Your mother, Akia, was a very clever woman, so alive, so self-confident, but she was also an idealist. I didn’t get her very often. She thought you were a gift, a Jedi son who would contribute to the future of the galaxy. She tried to persuade me—”

 

Blue light rose from the bottom of the stone, rendered an icy color that the soft yellow light could no longer warm it. There was a hollow in Cliegg’s voice, echoing old memories in the present, like the giant stone tried in vain to grasp the last evidence of the real landscape of Coruscant.

 

“We had argued about this whole night, it’s very bitter. I don’t care about the Republic, or about something noble. I just want watch my son grow up by my own eyes.” Cliegg swallowed hard. “We both calmed down after that. I thought she gave up until two Jedi took you away when I went to work. Akia used her maiden name because she wanted me to forget that you were my son. I howled at her fiercely, and then raced madly toward the spaceport even everything was too late. This is too much for me. We had come close to divorce.”

 

“You got over this.” Obi-wan said as neutral as possible.

 

“Yes. One night I saw Akia standing beside your cradle. She was singing. A lullaby she always sung, from the moment she knew she was pregnant. That’s when I forgave her and realized the truth. I may be the one who was really selfish.” Cliegg met his eyes, flexed a satisfied smile. “Now, I’m sure about this. Akia was right. You grow into a handsome young man, so cultured, so promising. Who would think you are a Lars?”

 

Obi-wan would never answer it. This praise presented too much weight for his mood. He tried to manage a restraining voice, but failed to hide a little emotion when it rose from the throat.

 

“The boy, what’s his name?”

 

“You mean Owen? Yes, his name is Owen. He is your brother.”

 

So there had been a revelation after all. He closed eyes briefly, feeling grateful for the hood that gave more shadow to his face.

 

“I asked him to come, but this is too shocked for a boy of his age. He never knows he has a brother until yesterday. He’s a little shy.” Cliegg said.

 

“I understand.” Obi-wan did his best to force down a doubt. _A little shy_ might not be the right adjective to describe Owen’s feelings. “What are you going to do on Tatooine?”

 

“It’s my home-planet. A moisture farming of Lars had worked there. I had inherited it. It’s left unused for a long time, but I think some repairs will make it operational enough to run our lives.”

 

“That sounds good.”

 

They looked at each other. Silence stretched.

 

The tone of the plaza became lively rise as the glittering skylanes wove through the skyscrapers, restaurants which surrounded the plaza was drawing every passing being. Night was coming, with the never dimmed sky.

 

Obi-wan looked away. A cool night breeze blew past them, brought the question what he was afraid to ask yet prickling with the avoidance.

 

“Did she leave peacefully?”

 

Cliegg sighed. “Akia had fallen in a deep coma before she went, if this was the peace.”

 

“I’m sorry.” For all the regret he felt, his apology should be full of sadness, but the words dropped out of his mouth like smooth silk.

 

_They taught you well._

“It’s not your fault, Obi-wan.”

 

“Did she talk of me?”

 

Cliegg shook his head. “No, she didn’t. She barely mentioned you since you left us.That’s not mean she didn’t love you. She had collected a lot of information about the Jedi she could find, asked everyone who had ever been in Coruscant how the Jedi Temple looked like, how the Padawans looked like, everything, though she had asked those so many times. I told her that I could take her there if she wanted, but she refused. I think you know why.”

 

Their eyes met again, and this time he thought he saw some tears hover in Cliegg’s eyes. The changes in Lars family left chronic bruise that might never be healed.

 

_And you won’t help them._

 

He couldn’t hold it any longer. The swirling sense of self-blame, striking a crack into the solid faith firmed over the years which he believed he would stick with forever. He knew then that he was wrong. His absent-minded on balance beams, his urge to prove the vision, had been far from a curiosity as he thought. It had been anattachment, calling him to face the initial bond of every living being.

 

Obi-wan stood up, bowed down quickly so he would not have to watch Cliegg’s face.

 

“I have to go now. My master was waiting for me. I’m very sorry. ” He said, hoping good-bye would be reciprocated, but nothing. He looked up carefully, and then a look of helpless resignation broke his heart.

 

The old man drew himself up, pale blue light snagged through his silhouette that made him look like a ghost. He stood there for a couple of moments. Then suddenly, before Obi-wan could say anything, he bowed his head.

 

“It’s really nice talking to you.” Cliegg said hoarsely. “May the force be with you, Master Kenobi.”

 

Obi-wan hold back the scalding behind his eyes and escaped away.

 

******

 

When Obi-wan went to find Qui-gon, his master was looking at a billboard of the Podracer Game.

 

“I always had a plan to watch the Podracering. It’s very popular on Malastare.” Qui-gon said by the time he came close, seemed to sense his approaching without turning around.

 

“No one would think a Jedi would be interested in such thing.” Obi-wan commented.

 

“No one would think I’m a Jedi when I watch the game.” Qui-gon smiled at him. “Well, uhm, you’re back a little early, I thought you might be go for dinner with Mr. Lars.”

 

“There is no time for dinner.” He let the casual air reached his tone. “They are leaving soon, take a vessel to Tatooine. They only want to say goodbye.”

 

Qui-gon studied the billboard carefully like it was a painting of some famous artist. “It’s not a pleasant place for people to live. Not a part of the Republic, both hot and droughty, has been controlled by slavers and outlaws to this day.”

 

The worry found its strength, pushed through the soil and grew rapidly into the thorns and got his tongue in the end. Obi-wan stood rigidly.

 

“Maybe you want to take a walk.” Qui-gon suggested mildly.

 

Obi-wan looked up at him. The scrutiny in Qui-gon’s face was a penetrating look, but soon out of sight as he began to walk away, before the impossibility of holding his gaze.

 

“Let’s go.” He called.

 

Coruscant was ablaze with countless lights, autonavigating skylanes lighted that made the traffic seemed to be more busy than during the day. If from the high orbit, someone could see the brilliance of spectacular totems stretched over the planet’s surface. Obi-wan followed in silence. He thought about those bright spots between the distant gaps of the skyscrapers, there would be one tiny spot to take Cliegg and Owen away from prosperity and across deep space to the wild desert, imagined about how they would be unable to shake away the uneasy feeling when they got up the deck.

 

“I didn’t handle this well.” He shed his hesitation finally.

 

“Why?”

 

“I shouldn’t hide from a trial of the Force. I didn’t handle this well.”

 

At his side, Qui-gon chuckled. “You think this is a trial?”

 

“The Force is testing you even in something ordinary.” He borrowed Qui-gon’s word, weighty with the respect, but the older Jedi looked untouched.

 

“Tell me about your family.” Qui-gon required.

 

Obi-wan’s stomach tightened, knew he would have had to tell this sooner or later. His lips parted, the words spoke slower than he expected. Cliegg’s grief seeped in his mind, separation, death, the old memory was shaping up like he had experienced. Qui-gon didn’t interrupt him until he paused and fell silent again.

 

“I’m sorry for your mother.”

 

“Thank you.” Obi-wan murmured.

 

Qui-gon flickered him a thoughtful glace. “You are worried about something.”

 

“Yes.” His eyes dropped.

 

“What’s that? Is that you couldn’t do your family responsibility because you are a Jedi, or you worry about them too much that make you feel you fail to be a good one of us? Which one? Obi-wan.” It was a serious question, not very loud but a great pealing between them. Qui-gon stopped abruptly.

 

Obi-wan stepped back and looked up. “I—” His gaze was captured by a pair of deep pool full with keen discernment. “I don’t know, Master.” He whispered, gave up arguing with himself. “Maybe both. I cannot help feeling how bad Mr. Lars’s heart is hurt, and how disappointed you are in this matter.”

 

Qui-gon stood quite still, staring directly into him. Though inside his head he didn’t want to flustered, he couldn’t suppress a flush spread up over his face.

 

The severe expression his master wore softened eventually. Nodded as if understood of something, he started to walk again, more unhurried than before.

 

Obi-wan pulled in a long breath.

 

“You’ve not disappointed me, my young Padawan.” Qui-gon assured him. “We have lots of precepts. They guide us to harmonize with the Force, to away from the dark side, to help beings who come for our assist, but are not given to us to judge the right or wrong.

 

“There is none in the galaxy hasn’t a complicated part beyond shaping.” Obi-wan quoted.

 

“You read a lot. That’s good. But remember the motto doesn’tmean you understand it, or you have the ability to practice it, let alone it might be misinterpreted.” Qui-gon shrugged. “Unfortunately, I’ve seen a few people in our Order couldn’t see this for some time.”

 

“You mean like Master C'baoth?”

 

Qui-gon grimaced. “Oh, don’t fit me into those who prefer to stab in the back.”

 

“Sorry, Master.” With less of an anxiety, Obi-wan might have laughed out. A small curve reached his lip, made him realize that he smiled for the first time since yesterday.

 

“You’re a human first, a Jedi second, Obi-wan.” Qui-gon’s voice was kindly. “Sometimes, things take place beyond right and wrong in what would not be allowed.”

 

Obi-wan thought about it for as long as he could. “Did you think it’s an attachment?”

 

The older Jedi said nothing. A little girl ran out of a store, laughing loudly, and in a moment a boy about her age came out too. He swung a fist, making a complaint against the girl that she had broken his model. Qui-gon’s attention seemed to be captured by them. His eyes followed two children until they ran into the alley. When he turned around he sighed with the sudden tiredness.

 

“I will never have any children. Maybe I once had a chance, but failed to save it.” Qui-gon said, as if talking to himself.

 

Obi-wan bit back the words that might reopen the wound, squeezed out an awkward consolation instead.

 

“I won’t leave you, Master.”

 

Qui-gon grinned. “Sure you won’t. I’m an old man. I will die before you.”

 

“Please don’t say that. It’s not funny.”

 

“I’m simply stating a fact.” Qui-gon made a casual gesture. “Like we all know you will be a full Jedi and take on a Padawan at someday. I’ve no doubt about the former, but to be a teacher, that always drive you to face the more difficult situation. Even I myself cannot stop self-doubt.”

 

“You’re a good teacher.” Obi-wan said honestly.

 

Another casual gesture. “I’m flattered. I guess that’s not what someone in the Order believe at me, knowing they think you’re a unfortunate boy who has a poor future, because I have a screw loose and would never be promoted to the council.

 

“So, you admitted that you’re a loner, right?” Obi-wan drawled deliberately on the word _loner._

 

Qui-gon frowned primly. “Not loner.” He lowered his voice to a false tone of the mystery. “More like a badass Jedi.”

 

They laughed out. Obi-wan felt gratitude warm through his veins.

 

Qui-gon raised a hand and clapped him gently on the shoulder. “Remember your family with an open mind, even if it’s an attachment, and take it as a gift from the Force.They’re good person. Love you so much that they have to let you go. What could be better than a son has such great parents?”

 

Master and Padawan looked at each other. Deep in the recess of Obi-wan’s heart, he has wondered why the Force had picked up this old bond for him. He knew it would be a question in the days following, but he expected the subtleness of the Force.

 

 _It will be a gift._ He wished heartily that his family will be safe and happy.

 

“Thank you, Master.” He said.

 

******

 

By the time they got to the Temple, night had held the trapezoid structure in the darkness.

 

He followed the tall Jedi Master, passing through the majestic statues which were lighted from the base. When they approached the gates, he drifted instinctively to a slow halt and turned to the empty area.

 

A woman was standing beside one statue. Though in the dim light, he could spot her quiet, beautiful face, thankful and stumbled to speak, and her hair was as auburn as his.

 

He felt his vision blurring with sudden tears.

 

_Sometimes, things take place beyond right and wrong in what would not be allowed._

 

He gathered himself, and then walked straight into the unbreakable fortress.

**Author's Note:**

> We all know that Obi-wan and Owen were brother, was a cancelled idea in the original screenplay, but also include some clues in other story like the adult novel of ROTJ. I think I’m not the first one introduced it to fan fictions. I did this because I want to make Obi-wan more tolerant and sensitive than Canon in my story, and set the Lars Family to serve the whole event.
> 
> I’d wondered my English ability before started it, but if I cannot completed any one-shot that mean I’m not in a position to begin medium-length or any other. However, I like challenges, always.
> 
> Now, I have some book must read first, and a vacation in next week (Parachuting in New Zealand!). I’ll start as soon as I came back home.


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